In Search of Memory
by Roper
Summary: AU. Dean 22 Sam 18 Jennifer 16. After Mary's family contacts the Winchesters, the three Winchester kids must decide whether to obey their father or to meet the family they've never known.ANnot a sister focused fic, just for the sake of adding a character


**In Search of MemoryBy Kate Roper**

Sam leapt down the stairs, literally. Hitting the bottom landing, caused a jolt of pain to shoot through his legs. They were running late again. His younger sister Jennifer had taken her time in the bathroom and now they were rushing to get to school on time. Sam passed the front door on his way to the kitchen, but doubled back when he saw a pile of letters on the ground, having slipped through the mail-slot. He fumbled through them, bill, bill, advertisement, bank statements, and a letter addressed to 'Sam Winchester 2867 Drury lane.' He looked towards the return address, it had come from one of the local colleges that he had applied to. When he considered opening the letter at that moment, he shook his head, causing his longish brown hair to fly in all directions. He shoved it into his bag to be read later, and headed to meet his family in the kitchen.

Dean, the oldest was holding a frying pan over Jennifer's plate and dumping some eggs onto it, then doing the same for the empty plate in front of Sam's usual seat.

"Hurry up, kiddo. You're gonna be late again," said Dean, as he quickly shoved the remaining egg off the pan and into his mouth.

Jennifer had just about finished and Sam was shoveling his breakfast into his mouth as fast as he could. Their father John, a gruff looking man with a face full of stubble, sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen, reading his newspaper, and chewing slowly on the breakfast that Dean had provided him with. Dean looked towards him nervously,

"Dad, aren't you going to …" he gestured towards his younger siblings. John looked up at him, huffed angrily then, quickly left the room. Sam and Jennifer looked up from their eggs.

"What was that about, Dean?" Jennifer asked curiously, tying her long brown hair back into a ponytail to keep it out of her face. Sam also gazed questioningly at his brother, who for the most part, looked torn as he stared at the door their father had left through. He breathed in deep, as if gathering courage, then explained.

"Okay, guys. Um…. So this morning we got a phone call," Dean paused, choosing his words carefully, anxiously wiping the sweat off his palms and on to his coveralls, still splattered with the oil of someone's '68 Mustang. He sat down to join them at the small, wooden table in the middle of the kitchen.

"Okay. What sort of phone call?" Sam asked, impatiently. They were smart kids, Dean mused to himself, these kids knew when something wasn't right. He continued,

"It was from some of our family," he paused again, "Some of Mom's family."

The mention of their mother stilled the teenagers, this was something not allowed, discussing, mentioning, remembering. Their mother had died just sixteen years before in a car accident, Jennifer had only been six months old, Sam two years, and Dean six. Their father had never really allowed them to discuss her and, not wanting to upset him, the children had complied.

"They were inviting us to a family Christmas party on Friday back in Seattle. They want to see us," Dean said, unsurely. They hadn't stayed in contact with their mother's family, having moved to Vancouver shortly after her death. It had been sixteen years since they'd last spoken to them.

"Why are you telling us this? It's not like Dad would let us go," stated Jennifer, sadly.

"I just thought that it was something that you guys should know." Something in the way Dean said those words caused his siblings to think that there was more to their brother's intentions than just that.

There was a pause, a silence, when no one said anything, lost in their own thoughts. It was broken when Dean looked over at the clock and swore.

"Shit, we're gonna be late, come on guys," with that they headed to school.

Jennifer was sitting in her favorite diner, sipping a cup of hot chocolate, she despised coffee. She wasn't exactly the most popular girl in the school, in fact she wasn't even close. That's why she enjoyed these small reprieves at lunch when she could sit by herself or with her brother Sam, and not have to worry about which table to sit at in the cafeteria.

"So, Jen, what are you working on?" asked Teresa, curiously. She was a young waitress in the diner that had moved to Vancouver two months before, and had quickly grown quite close with Jennifer, despite the age gap.

"Just that story I told you about," Jennifer responded, looking up with a polite smile as Teresa removed her apron and sat down across from her in the booth.

Jennifer often spent her lunch hour writing, her favorite thing in the world, and Teresa had grown accustomed to seeing the young sixteen year old scratching furiously in her notebook with a look of concentration on her face. On this day, however, Teresa noticed that Jennifer appeared troubled.

"What's wrong, honey? You look a little down," she asked, leaning forward to catch her friend's gaze again. When their eyes locked, Jennifer seemed unsure and appeared to be debating with herself whether or not to discuss her feelings.

"It's nothing. Just family stuff," she responded.

Teresa noticed that she still appeared afflicted but didn't push, changing the subject for the sake of her friend's comfort level.

"That reminds me, you talk about them all the time, but I still haven't met this family of yours," she pointed out, mock accusation in her face. Jennifer laughed, her troubled expression disappearing for now.

"You've met Sam," She reminded the waitress, who rolled her eyes in response.

"Yeah but he's here with you almost everyday. What about that lady you told me about, the one that lives down the street from you that always scolds your brothers, or your Dad, or your other older brother. You've told me so much about them, yet I've never met any of them. I'm beginning to think they don't exist," Teresa smirked, raising her eyebrows in question. Jennifer laughed at her friend's accusation and was about to respond when the voice of cook called Teresa back from her break. The waitress sighed and was sliding out of the booth when Jennifer stopped her.

"Why don't you come over for dinner tonight? You can meet them then."

"I'd love to, what time?" Teresa asked, excitedly. She hadn't made very many friends since moving and was looking forward to meeting new people.

"6:30," Jennifer informed, the waitress smiled and acknowledged that she'd be there, then returned to work.

She had only returned to her writing for five minutes when Jennifer was disturbed yet again from her work. This time it was by her brother Sam, who dropped his books on the table with a thud, and slid into Teresa's abandoned seat. Jennifer looked up, annoyed, but noticed that her brother looked even more troubled then she did.

"What's up?" she asked curiously, her mind going back to the last time she'd seen him this disturbed, right after one of the football players threatened to beat him up for accidentally bumping into him. Sam pulled a letter from his bag and handed it over to her with a sigh, leaning his head back against the booth and sighing. Jennifer slid a piece of paper out of the already opened envelope and read it.

"This is great, Sammy! You got in!" she said excitedly, bouncing in her seat as only a teenage girl could. Sam however, looked even more depressed at her joy.

"Firstly, it's Sam not Sammy, and secondly, what's so great about it, it's not like I'll be able to go." His sister frowned, recalling their father's lack of investing and their family's lack of money.

"Oh, Sammy, I'm sorry," she said, ignoring his earlier complaint at the nickname.

"Yeah, I know, I just …. Don't wanna talk about it," he said, leaning forward and opening his math text book. Jennifer rewarded him with a change of subject,

"So, I invited Teresa to dinner tonight," she said slyly.

"Poor girl," he smiled at the thought, "how long d'you think she'll last?"

"So what's the occasion?" Sam asked, looking up from his science homework.

Missouri, a nice old woman from down the street, who had met the family when they moved in to town 16 years ago, was cooking dinner. She often visited them, telling off both John and Dean, much to the amusement of the two youngest. She had shown up after school and started to make what looked to be a delicious meal.

"What do you mean?" Missouri asked, looking up from the pot on the stove.

"Why are you cooking dinner and not Dean?" Jennifer elaborated for her brother.

"Because your brother does too much," Missouri stated, making it clear that she wasn't going to elaborate, and returning to her cooking.

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of their visitor.

"I'll get it," said Jennifer, rising from her seat at the kitchen table to answer the door. A few minutes later she returned with Teresa in tow.

"Missouri, this is Teresa, Teresa this is Missouri," she introduced, watching as the two smiled politely to each other.

"I've heard a lot about you, sweetie," Missouri commented.

"Same here, I've heard nothing but good things," Teresa returned, glancing at Jennifer who grinned proudly and 'crossed her heart'.

"Well, take a seat, sweetheart, and tell me a bit about yourself," ordered the older woman.

They didn't have time to talk however, because at that moment they heard John come through the front door.

"Home," he yelled, the sound of dropping keys was heard. The door to the kitchen opened and he entered, somewhat surprised upon seeing Teresa, it was _very_ uncommon for them to have houseguests, let alone _dinner_ guests.

"Who's this?" he asked, confused. Missouri raised the spoon she had been holding and tapped him with it on the head.

"Ow, what was that for?"

"Don't be rude. John this is Teresa, she's a friend of Jennifer and Sammy," she explained, receiving an exasperated glare from Sam when he heard the nickname. John nodded in greeting towards the waitress, placing his bag on the counter.

"Why isn't Dean cooking?" he asked Missouri, who promptly scowled leaving the question unanswered and John confused.

"You expect way too much of that boy," she said as she eyed the boiling water, "and what's this I hear about Mary's family contacting you?"

At the mention of their mother, the two children stiffened, glancing at each other.

"You know I just remembered, we haven't shown Teresa the shed yet," Sam said, rising from his seat.

"Ah, yes … the_ shed_, of course," Jennifer agreed, grabbing the waitress by her arm and dragging her outside, followed by Sam. The kitchen became silent.

"Dean told you?" asked John, emotionlessly, pulling a beer from the fridge.

"Yes," she answered, "I think that you should reconsider, or at least talk to them," Missouri gestured by pointing the spoon at the backs of the retreating teenagers.

"It's my decision and I've made it," was all the response she got, as John walked out the kitchen door.

They were just sitting down for dinner when the front door slammed, yet again. Moments later, Dean entered the room, still wearing his coveralls, tied up around his waste, grease and oil spotted all over his white shirt. He smiled in greeting, receiving a warm welcome from his brother and sister. As he sat at the head of the table, across from his father, he noticed Teresa.

"Oh, you must be Teresa," he smiled his charming smile and reached out and shook her hand across the table. She smiled back sweetly,

"And you must be Dean, from what I hear you're quite the big brother." Dean smiled, slightly confused, and glanced at his siblings who shyly looked away.

There was a silence as everyone took in the food in front of them, each taking portions of roast beef and mashed potatoes. Dean felt eyes upon him and glanced down the table to his father who was glaring disapprovingly.

"What?" he asked, again slightly confused.

"You couldn't wash before you sat down? This is dinner Dean, not your shop," said John, eyeing his son's wardrobe. The rest of the table had grown silent at the exchange.

"I was working overtime, Dad," Dean responded, casually returning to his meal.

"Overtime? You're always working overtime. Where's this money going? Cause I sure as hell haven't seen any of it," his father grumbled to himself.

"The future, Dad. It goes towards the future," Dean replied, cryptically.

"Someone has to think ahead," Sam mumbled from his side of the table. John's eyes flew to his youngest son. The quiet groans coming from the observers were almost audible, resignedly preparing for another fight between John and Sam, an event that by now was quite common.

"Excuse me? What did you say?" the potential fury in his face was frightening. Sam swallowed nervously, but continued,

"Dean can do what he wants with his money, he does enough around here," Sam said with his chin slightly elevated in defiance. John was rising in his chair when Jen, sensing the fight to come, stepped in.

"Stop, both of you, we have company," she said, a look of chastise on her face that would have rivaled that of her mother. There was a pause where everyone froze, waiting for what John decided to do. He looked away and pushed his chair back,

"I'll eat later," with that he left the room, and all of its occupants, in an uncomfortable silence.

"Listen, I'm really sorry about that," Dean started, as he and Teresa washed the dishes in the kitchen. Teresa passed him another washed dish to be rinsed.

"Sorry about what? That your family has some kinks? Everyone's does," she smiled, reminiscing.

"Your family is as crazy as mine?" he asked her with a grin which she returned.

"Maybe not," Teresa said, laughing, "But my parents are pretty whacked themselves," He laughed, which Teresa noticed, didn't seem to happen too often. It was an odd yet pleasant sound, like the voice of someone who has never spoken.

"Yeah? How so?" Dean asked, curiously, placing another clean dish on the drying rack.

"My Dad's a total pushover, and my mom? She's nuts, she says it's for my best interest but … Ever have someone in your life that's so controlling that it drives you crazy?" She looked over at him again. As he thought about her question, his expression grew slightly sad.

"No," he answered, quietly. Teresa, who hadn't noticed his change, continued.

"Well you don't want to, let me tell you," she chuckled to herself. There was a companionable silence over them as they washed, until the waitress broke it with a question.

"What about your mom? What was she like?" She seemed unsure, as if debating whether or not this was appropriate. Dean paused, not used to the mention of his mother. Thinking back nostalgically, he answered,

"She sang," he whispered. Teresa's eyebrows rose with interest.

"Really, what did she sing?"

"My song," he smiled to himself as if enjoying some sort of inside joke. She didn't push him any further,

"It's too bad for Sam and Jennifer, huh?" she said sadly, slowing her movements over the plate she was holding, a far off look on her face.

"What do you mean?" Dean had stopped and was facing her, confused.

"Well …. Think about it," she returned his gaze, "at least _you_ had a song."

There was a long, thoughtful silence that was broken when Jennifer entered the room.

"Hey Dean?" she looked nervously, "can I talk to you?" Dean lifted his gaze from the dishes that it had rested on, looking up at his sister with an unfamiliar and pensive gaze.

"Sure, Kiddo."

They had been sitting on the patio for ten minutes when Dean finally broke the silence. He had been waiting for his sister to do so when she was ready to talk but decided he needed to encourage her.

"What's going on, Jen?" he said quietly. Jennifer shifted uncomfortably as if she was doing something that she wasn't supposed to.

"It's Sammy," she whispered, "He uh ….he got a letter this morning."

"What kind of letter?" her brother said worriedly.

"An acceptance letter … for college," she stated, looking up to meet her brother's eyes.

"That's great! Why didn't he tell me?!" Dean said excitedly. Jennifer shook her head, calming him down.

"Dean, think about it. College costs money …." She trailed off, Dean's eyes showed understanding and he grew solemn.

"Is he okay?" he asked, knowing the answer was no. Sam was a book worm, always had been, and had always dreamed of going to college, and to be faced with the unfortunate reality that his dreams could only go so far had to be daunting.

"Not so good," Jennifer whispered, knowing that Sam hadn't wanted his older brother to know but feeling that Dean could help him get through it. Dean always helped them get through it. Another silence weighed on them, so heavy that they'd almost forgot what sound was.

"Don't worry, Jen. It'll work out … trust me," he looked at her with an unreadable expression which made her suspicious but she chose not to comment, looking away.

"Kiddo?" Dean said softly. Jennifer raised her head.

"Yeah?"

"Did we ever …" he trailed off, but tried again, "Did we tell you enough about mom?" Her eyes rose to meet his.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused at the change of topic. Dean licked his lips nervously, feeling as if in uncharted territory, which is essentially what it was.

"You were so young when she died. Did we … me and Dad … and Sammy …did we tell you enough about her? Did we…." He trailed off again.

"Yeah, I guess so," she replied, understanding his meaning, "I mean Dad gave me a photo of her. Well actually I kind of took it from his room but ….it's better than nothing, why?" she asked, Dean looked away.

"You know 'Your Song' by Elton John?" Dean asked, referring to the tune he'd heard sung so softly in his early years.

"I think so …yeah"

"Mom used to sing it …" he smiled, "all the time," he looked over towards his sister.

"You can have it, we'll share it. It'll be our song and we can remember Mom together," he put his arm around her shoulders, knowing his sister found his cryptic speech confusing, but that she understood what he meant.

"Deal" She grinned back at him and he reached out and ruffled her chestnut hair.

"It's getting late, kiddo," he said, giving her a kiss on her temple, "Go to bed."

"Yeah, right, school tomorrow," she sighed and walked towards the sliding glass door to the house. Dean watched her leave,

"Yeah we'll see about that," he whispered to himself.

There was a bang on his door that jolted Sam out of sleep.

"Come on, Buddy, up and at 'em," came his brother's voice through the hard wood. He glanced at the clock, it couldn't be morning already. Six o'clock?

"Dean it's too early for school!" he yelled back, the door opened revealing his brother.

"You're not going to school," he smiled, leaving the door open and retreating across the hall to bang on Jennifer's door.

"Come on Jen, time to get up," he yelled, a groan was heard in the other room. Sam however, had followed his brother out into the hall. His sister had opened her door as well, groggily, when he asked the burning question,

"What do you mean, 'we're not going to school?'" Jennifer woke up a little at that.

"No school?" she asked, sleepily. Dean smiled.

"I called you both in sick, pack your bags," he started down the hall towards the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Sam asked, confused. Dean stopped and turned around.

"Seattle. We'll be staying for a couple of days so pack enough clothes" With that, he headed down the stairs.

"Seattle? What's in Sea…" Jennifer trailed off and looked at her brother whose eyes had also lit up in realization. They both turned and ran into their rooms to pack.

Meanwhile, Dean had entered the kitchen where his father was sitting, reading the paper and sipping coffee. John glanced up,

"You're a little early," his eyes returned to the paper in front of him.

"It's gonna be a bit of a drive, we need to make good time," Dean responded. John looked up again, confused, just as Jennifer and Sam entered the kitchen with their bags.

"Dean? What's this?" he said, sitting forward in his chair, startled.

"Jennifer, here's the keys, warm up the car will you? Sammy go with her." For once his younger brother didn't comment on his name.

When the younger two had left, Dean turned back to his father.

"We're going to the party, to see Mom's family," he stated, more confidently then he'd ever been talking to his father.

"No you're not," John shot back, standing up, toe to toe with his eldest son. Dean met his gaze,

"Sorry Dad, but that's not your choice." John froze, as if he had been robbed of his control, which in a way, he had.

"There's room in the car," Dean said, looking pleadingly towards his father, who appeared troubled. Eventually, John shook his head and dropped his gaze. Dean nodded and left the room.

Sam was waiting at the open front door when Dean came out of the kitchen. The two brothers faced each other, their father in one direction, their mother in another, and themselves in the middle. Sam looked into his brother's eyes as if asking if they were really going through with this, Dean smiled warmly and placed a hand on his little brother's shoulder.

"So have you decided?" he asked the younger man.

"Decided what?" replied Sam, unsure.

"On what courses you're gonna take, College Boy," the older man smiled as Sam's eyes lit up with hope.

"But … the money… we don't have the money," he stammered.

"_Dad_ doesn't have the money," Dean corrected, Sam's eyebrows rose and his eyes filled with clarity.

"All that overtime …. The future?" Dean put an arm around the neck of his younger brother and guided him out the door, Sam stumbling dazedly along.

"Exactly, Sammy … _your_ future."

John watched through the window as his sons headed towards the car where their sister was waiting, where their mother was waiting. He sighed to himself as they drove away. Wanting them to turn around and come back, yet hoping they'd continue, but mostly,

wishing he had the courage to join them.


End file.
